


like i love you

by bropunzeling



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2253219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bropunzeling/pseuds/bropunzeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You did it!" he yells, even as Geno practically hoists him off his skates. "You did it, fuck, Geno, fuck!"</p><p>Geno yells something back at him — it’s all in Russian, but he’s smiling hugely, and so Sid beams back, screaming in his ear, because fuck, Geno’s amazing.</p><p>[five times Geno told Sid he loved him (and the time Sid believed him)]</p>
            </blockquote>





	like i love you

**Author's Note:**

> julia prompted me "five times geno told sid he loved him and one time sid believed him!!!!!!!," and since it was like 2k i decided it could be here too. title from maps by yeah yeah yeahs.

1.

Evgeni Malkin is amazing.

Sid thought he would be — he’s watched the tape, he’s been waiting for this, but it’s even better to see him in person, to skate on the same ice. Evgeni — Geno — he does things that make Sid’s mouth dry out, getting highlight reel goals like it’s nothing.

When Geno scores against Brodeur again, fourth goal in as many games, Sid can barely even think he’s so happy. All he can manage is skating into Geno, getting his arms around him and hugging him as tightly as possible.

"You did it!" he yells, even as Geno practically hoists him off his skates. "You did it, fuck, Geno, fuck!"

Geno yells something back at him — it’s all in Russian, but he’s smiling hugely, and so Sid beams back, screaming in his ear, because _fuck_ , Geno’s amazing.

2.

Everything is bubbly. And happy. Sid takes another gulp of champagne, and yep. Bubbly and happy and amazing. Everyone’s amazing. He loves them.

But not as much as he loves the Cup.

“More champagne!” someone shouts from inside the locker room, and Sid follows, clapping guys on the back and grinning so hard his face hurts. They won, these guys did, _his_ guys did, won the whole thing, won the Cup, oh my god they fucking won the Stanley Cup.

"You guys are the best," he tells anyone close enough, reaching out to hug them sidelong. "Everyone here is the best."

"No, you," Talbo says, giving Sid a smacking kiss on the cheek, and maybe Sid is kind of drink because he doesn’t want to squirm away.

Wait, not drink, drunk. He’s kind of drunk. Okay, he’s kind of a lot drunk.

"Sid!" someone yells, and Sid turns to find Geno, tall and soaked in alcohol and beaming at him. "Sid, Sid, hi!" Geno sort of falls onto him, one arm looping around Sid’s neck as he bends over to hug him.

"Hi G," Sid says, and his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s grinning, and he just doesn’t care.

"Sid," Geno says, leaning in closer. Sid can feel warm breath against his cheek. "Love you, Sid," he says, voice very soft, and then he smacks a kiss to Sid’s cheek.

Before Sid can say anything else, though, Geno’s off again, tackling Jordy into the wall. “Love you, Jordy!” he shouts, grabbing another bottle of champagne, and oh, champagne. Sid should have some more.

3.

The world is fuzzy, like cotton, or a blanket, no sharp edges. It’s nice.

The way his jaw hurts is a lot less nice. He wishes it would stop aching. He knows it’s better than last time he was awake, but it still hurts a lot and he wants it to not hurt anymore.

"Sid," Sid hears, and Sid forces his eyelids open. It’s really hard, because he’s sleepy and the world is fuzzy and he doesn’t want to yet, but he manages.

Geno’s there, sitting by his bed, leaning over his legs. He looks sad. He shouldn’t be sad. Sid opens his mouth to tell him so, and coughs instead.

Immediately Geno leans forward, holding out an ice chip and popping it into his mouth. It’s nice and cold and gets rid of the bad taste in Sid's mouth, and Sid sucks on it happily.

"Thanks," he croaks out, and Geno nods. He still looks worried, though. He should stop. "Stop that. With your face."

"What?" Geno asks, forehead wrinkling, and Sid manages to flop a hand at him, even though everything feels heavy and hard to move.

"Your face. ‘s sad. Shouldn’t be." He nods, satisfied.

Geno sighs, and before Sid knows it, he’s leaning over Sid. The brush of his lips against his forehead feels weird.

"Love you," Geno says, very quietly. "Please not scare."

Sid blinks at him, because why would Geno say he loves him? He must be joking. “You’re funny,” he says, because he’s not sure about the laughing thing right now, but Geno should know that he is. Funny, he means.

Geno sighs at him, sitting back in his chair and running a thumb over Sid’s knuckles. It feels nice.

4.

Sid needs to talk to Geno. He’s been putting it off, because, well, he wasn’t sure how well Geno would take it, getting advice from him. The weight of expectations has been so heavy on the Russian team, on Geno, and it has to hurt, being disappointed, over and over again. Sid knows plenty about pressure, but not about the second part.

But Sid’s Geno’s captain, and Geno hasn’t been playing well, and it’s probably past time.

So Sid invites himself over after practice, bringing sandwiches that he leaves in the kitchen. Geno’s probably in the living room, judging by the faint sounds of Animal Planet, so Sid heads over that way, leaving his shoes and coat neatly put away in the hall.

"Hi G," he says as he walks in, and Geno looks up. He’s been looking more tired, lately. Sid wishes he didn’t.

"Sid," Geno says, voice a little rough with surprise and something else. "What you do here?"

"I brought lunch," Sid offers, sitting himself at the other end of the couch, pulling his legs up. "But I — we should probably talk. About Sochi, I mean."

For a long while, neither of them say anything. Then — “Not much to say,” Geno replies, staring straight at the screen. “Not win.”

"Look," Sid says, biting his lip. "I know — I can’t know what it means, not to bring home a medal, but. I know about pressure, Geno."

Geno doesn’t say anything, but he does stop staring at the TV, so Sid takes it as permission to keep going.

"You just — you have to know, that even if you don’t win, even if you feel like you’re disappointing everyone, you're not. I promise you're not."

"Feels like am," Geno says softly. He’s all curled up, arms looped around his knees. "Feels like — I go, play, but never good enough."

"You are," Sid says, and when he says it he feels it so fiercely that he almost wants to go after anyone who says different, anyone who could doubt that Geno tries his fucking hardest, that he plays his fucking best. "You’re so good, Geno. You — you could never disappoint me. Or the team."

Geno looks up. His eyes seem slightly wet. “Mean that?”

"Yes," Sid replies, as firmly as he knows how.

Geno laughs, a weak sort of chuckle that sounds stuck in his throat. “Love you,” he says quietly, mouth twitching up into almost a smile.

Sid just nods back, unsure of what to say. 

They sit for a little while in silence, watching giant birds attempt to protect their nests. Finally, as the nature documentary switches to a commercial break about vacuum cleaners, he asks, “Do you want some lunch? I can go grab it.”

"Please," Geno replies. He looks less tense already, unfurling and stretching out like he normally does on the couch. It makes something in Sid’s chest settle, and as he passes, he brushes Geno’s shoulder, so Geno knows he’s there, that he has his back.

5.

"Have you read it?" Flower asks, and Sid sighs, considering his produce choices.

"Read what?" he asks, and Flower just laughs.

"Geno got interviewed over in the motherland, and — man. He says some stuff about you — anyways. I’ll email it to you."

"Like bad stuff?" Sid asks, frowning. He’s one hundred percent sure that Geno would never actually say anything bad about him, but. Mistranslation and all that.

"Oh no. The opposite," Flower replies, and Sid sighs.

"Okay, I’ll read it when I’m home," he says, finally picking out some apples and heading for the vegetable section.

True to his word, Flower does email the interview to Sid. Sid reads it as he eats dinner, and then again — there has to be some mistake or something.

 _did you really call me number one?_ he texts Geno, not really expecting a response for a while — time differences and all that.

Surprisingly, Geno texts back only a few hours later, while Sid’s watching The History Channel. _how you read interview???? in russian_

 _flower_ , Sid texts back, frowning. _did you mean that or not?_

 _of course mean_ , Geno sends back. _love you best ))))_

 _haha_ Sid texts back. Maybe telling people you love them is one of the new texting trends that Geno loves, like emojis and the ever-present smileys. He'll have to ask Taylor about it. _see you soon._

(+1)

When Geno gets back into Pittsburgh, Sid knows because Geno immediately texts him about it. 

_back! good to be home )))_

_you should come over_ , Sid replies, unable to stop smiling — he’s back in their city, and so is Geno. There’s a new season, new coaches, new team, but some things don’t change, and Geno is one of them.

 _make me dinner??_ Geno asks, and Sid glances at his fridge. If he adds another chicken breast and a few more carrots to the stir fry, there’ll be enough.

 _for sure_ , he says, and gets down to marinading.

He knows Geno arrives because of the knocking, loud and insistent, which means Geno was too lazy to get out his spare key. “Let in, Sid,” Sid hears, and he puts down his cooking magazine, double checks the food isn’t getting cold, and walks down the hall.

"Maybe I don’t want to," he teases even as he pulls open the front door, and Geno gives him the puppy dog eyes.

"So mean! Meanest captain," he says, dropping his bags in a pile by Sid’s shoe rack and shrugging off his plane jacket. As soon as his hands are free, Sid reaches out to hug him.

It’s a good hug. It feels like Geno’s somehow gotten taller over the break, and he’s warm and smells good, like spices and pine. Sid lets himself stick his nose in Geno’s collar and his hands on Geno’s back, and he can feel the moment Geno sinks into him, nose brushing against Sid’s hair.

"Missed you," Sid says, because he has — he always likes his summers, but. Having Geno with him is better.

"Miss you too," Geno replies, mumbling it into Sid’s hair.

They eat in the breakfast nook, Sid in his lying around the house sweats and Geno down to a t-shirt and jeans. Sid asks about Geno’s summer, about the whale shark and ice bucket challenges and Anna.

"We still friends," Geno says, and he seems — happy about it, which is, well, it’s good. Some summers Sid's spent worrying about Geno's tendency to fall fast and hard for people who won't ever follow him home, but this time Geno seems content, almost. "Good for summer, and can still talk to her. Not feel bad."

"That’s good," Sid says, tapping Geno’s calf gently with his toes. "I’m glad you’re happy with it."

"Yes," Geno says, smiling at Sid over his stir-fry.

After dinner, they clean up and head into the living room to watch the Pirates game. Geno sticks his toes under Sid’s calf and laughs like an asshole when he jumps at how cold they are.

"Such a baby. Mean and wimpy. Should trade out," Geno chirps, and it’s so stupid, but that doesn’t mean Sid doesn’t feel a little riled up.

"You’re gonna say this after saying I’m number one in life, G?" he asks, poking Geno in the thigh. "Number one, you said. That means I’m best."

"Are you?" Geno asks, laughing. "I say?"

"Yes, asshole," Sid replies, resorting to punching him in the shoulder instead. "Maybe you should repeat yourself, huh? What was it you told me?"

Geno blinks at him, smile growing smaller, softer. “Love you best,” he says. His voice is quiet and so sincere it hurts.

Oh.

Maybe last time Sid thought it was a joke, but now, hearing it, he’s not so sure. 

He’s not sure he wants it to be one, anyways.

"Geno," he says, voice just as quiet. "Do — you mean that, don’t you."

Geno’s smile goes a little rueful. “Always mean,” he says. “Sometimes more, sometimes less, but — always mean.”

"Oh," Sid says, watching the curve of Geno’s mouth, the way his eyes are soft and dark. "Oh," he says, leaning forward, leaning closer, Geno turning to meet him.

Kissing Geno is like coming home.


End file.
